A sad ending, or a new beginning?
by LovelyDepression
Summary: Nothing ever last, and Lovino has learned that first hand when the only man he has ever loved dies. Too scared to form any type of relationship with anyone else, the Italian does his best to keep his distance from others. But, of course not everything goes as planned. Especially when you have a happy-go-lucky neighbor who wants to be friends. Maybe more. Hinted Prumano/ Spamano.


**Yes, I know, a new story, and I am so so so so sorry! But this has been bugging me! Ah, I'll upload the next chapter to The Bloody Truth here in a little bit! I'm so sorry!**

**Ah... Yes this is Spamano. The beginning has Prumano, and I apologize for killing him! But his is how it'll be fore awhile! And I'm so sorry!**

**Oh, anyways, enjoy this story~!**

**Warning: Has the word 'Fucking' in it, but that's it... And character death...**

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Hands clenched into fist tightly, hazel eyes red-rimmed from endless hours of sobbing.

"Dammit… Why? Why did you leave me here?!" Words, almost butchered from the sore throat, croaked out. Was this God's way of punishing him? Was this all his fault? Or was this something that happened by chance?

"Lovi… I'm so sor-,"

"Shut up, Feliciano. Just… Shut up." Lovino hissed out, head turning to glare at his younger brother. But he knew yelling at his brother wouldn't help out any. The younger didn't need to be told twice, though, and let his mouth close.

And that's all Lovino needed at this moment.

Silence.

It was the only thing keeping him from falling to his knees and screaming in utter despair. Because, what could you do when the one person you loved, the one person who made you feel special, died?

Nothing.

And it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. Like someone had stabbed you with a knife and twisted the blade, only to slowly pull it out and then repeat the process over and over.

The shuffling of feet was heard, and then a soft 'click', indicating that his brother had left the room and closed the door, leaving him alone.

Alone.

At one point in his life he hadn't minded the thought of being alone. He welcomed the thought, actually. He had already known that no one cared for him and could you blame them?

No, you couldn't. The Italian already knew that he wasn't the favored one, it had always been Feliciano.

Feliciano, who was quiet. Feliciano, who was talented. Feliciano, who was better at everything he wasn't/

But not to him. No. Lovino was different. Lovino was fierce, Lovino was himself, and that was all the other needed. All he needed was Lovino, and that was all Lovino needed to fall in love with him.

Gilbert.

Gilbert didn't need anything from him but for Lovino to be himself. That was how everything started.

Endless nights of fights, make ups, and surprises. It was never boring with the albino. But, sometimes, nothing seems to last.

Out drinking with everyone else was how it happened. It was how the cocky man had ended up lifeless in the casket in front of him, in front of the whole church and in front of everyone. Gilbert and he were walking home, drunk off their asses of course, when the man came out. Gun brandish and seeming to glare in the moonlight. As though it were taunting them, daring them to do something drastic. Of course this seemed like nothing to Gilbert.

Things didn't end well. For either the robber or them, and left two of them in the hospital and one dead, soon to be two dead. It was there, bleeding on the ground, did Lovino realize,

Things don't last forever.

And that was how he, and everyone else, ended up here. Waiting in the church seats, blocking out the priests words and prayers. It was here that everything seemed like a dream, a scary, unreal dream. Or maybe the word nightmare would fit better here.

It led them to carrying the casket out of the church, and into a car, where everyone drove to the graveyard and finally placed the casket into the dugout grave. It was there that he watched them bury the man Lovino loved. It was there where they also buried his heart.

A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, causing Lovino to turn his head to look at whoever had touched him. It was his brother once again, a look of sadness on his face and empathy swimming in his eyes.

"Lovino… It's time to go home…" The words were barely above a whisper, as though talking normally would break this trance placed on his brother. Turning back to the grave, the older Italian only nodded.

"Si…" And with that, he turned and walked back to his own car, leaving the other behind, as well as a broken heart and an opened door.


End file.
